


On hold

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Pre-Canon, Trip to Greece, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: The sunset stretches on.
Relationships: Giovanni Garau/Martino Rametta
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	On hold

The sunset stretches on.

They're out on the hotel balcony, taking turns sipping from the ice-cold beer bottle they'll swear they don't know anything about if caught. They're waiting for Elia and Luca to come up. Something happened, Marti didn't understand very well from the voice message: something to do with a suitcase.

Marti only snorted as Gio played the message, which mostly consisted of Elia wheezing with a background of Luchino's high-pitched squeal. Meeting him has been the highlight of the trip, they all agree.

Marti looks out to the sea, distracted even as he takes in the breathtaking view: the impossibly quiet beach, the peaceful waves, the overhanging cliffs. The sky slowly turning dark, as the horizon still burns violently orange.

And it's not that the rest hasn't been good, because it has. It's just not been... well, anything like he thought it would be. Marti had jumped at the opportunity as soon as it had presented itself, when Gio had pointed at the solitary flyer adversing a student discount for the trip to Patras on the last day of school.

It had seemed like the perfect opportunity to put everything on hold until he was ready to figure it out – all of it: his mum's depression, the inevitable divorce, Eva, Gio, the mess he'd made, _everything._

Instead, he feels like he put _himself_ on hold. Not even hoping for a sign he knows won't ever come, just waiting. Lying.

Regretting.

There's something tired, resigned in the way he finds his gaze lingering on Gio at his side, on the slow stretch of his lips around the bottle, on the tiny drops on condensation forming on the glass.

 _My lips were there a second ago,_ Marti thinks.

He shivers, despite how hot it is, not startled, but used to the quiet thrill as Gio passes the bottle back, their fingers barely touching, the feeling familiar as it is painful.

Marti sighs, grabs the bottle, and takes a long sip.

_His lips were there a second ago._

He gets lost in the half-formed fantasy, cozy and sharp at the same time, staring dumbly into space for he doesn't know how long. Not too long, though, because Gio snaps his fingers, loud and sudden, and Marti stumbles back to the present. He mumbles some vague swear as Gio grins at him, obviously mocking.

"Where did you go, man?"

Marti shakes his head, shrugging deliberately. "Just thinking."

Gio frowns, always too perceptive for his own good. And Marti's. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just... home stuff."

It's an easy lie because it's not one, and Gio hums in understanding. "Did he text?" he asks after a brief pause.

"Once."

The frown deepens. "What did he say?"

Marti snorts. "'Heard you were in Greece'," he enunciates slowly, bitterly.

Gio looks up. Eyes wide, mouth open, about to form a word he then hesitates on, wondering if he should, if it's his place. He waits a couple of seconds, then closes his mouth again.

"... right," is what he goes for in the end, a sad ironic smile more in his eyes than on his lips, and Marti can't help the sudden wave of gratitude that washes over him.

_He gets it._

His own smile starts slow. His eyes meet Gio's and he recognises something of his own own hurt there. It's a special kind of understanding what they have – practised, easy: something he's never found anywhere else, and he can't even regret it.

Marti feels his expression soften, get warm. The corner of his mouth stretching in a crooked, close-mouthed smile. Gio's snort of a laugh as he gestures for Marti to give him back the beer.

Marti does, brushing their fingers together on purpose this time, lingering for slightly too long, an imaginary caress, before letting go.

Gio doesn't notice – and thank God he doesn't – but Marti still flinches at the sudden pang of disappointment.

_He doesn't notice. He'll never notice. He can't ever notice._

The thought is slightly too much for this moment. Maybe it's the beer, or the paint-like stillness of the evening, or the strident cries of the seagulls on the deserted beach below getting to Marti's head.

Maybe it's the insignificant arm's length separating them as they both lean back on their chairs, the beer bottle now firmly in Gio's grip. Maybe it's just that Marti's life feels pointless whenever he's not there.

He barely allows himself to picture it, really, what it would be like to bridge the gap, to finally, _finally_ lay his lips where the bottle is, to let himself have this. No words, no explanations, no consequences.

No next minute: on hold for the rest of time.

"Gio?" Marti calls impulsively.

He turns, his hair catching the setting sun, making it look like he's glowing. Lowering the beer slowly, the bottom of it clinking loudly against the arm rest. There must be something in Marti's eye, because Gio squints in the setting sun, frowning, worried even as he keeps his gaze.

"Yes?"

... he doesn't go with it.

Of course he doesn't, Marti thinks bitterly, lowering his eyes to stare at his hands: his knuckles are so white it's scary, gripping the bottom of his chair like it's a lifeline. He lets out a deep breath and makes himself release the grip, the blood slowly flowing back into place.

It's weird because sometimes he thinks he could find the courage to do it: he could say "fuck it" and lean in and kiss Gio. He could, he has the guts.

There's just no point to it, and why would Marti wilfully lose the one thing in his life that hasn't fallen apart yet?

 _Is it selfish? It's probably selfish,_ Marti laughs without humour. _It's not like it's news._

He gestures vaguely for the beer bottle and tries to think of something, anything to say. With the corner of his eye, he can't help but notice the sun still hasn't set.

He sighs. "Do you think Elia shoved him in an actual suitcase?"


End file.
